I’m coming home this weekend to rest. To listen to slow music without overt consciousness of my body or of other people, pressing in all around me.
I’ve been writing so many analytical papers that I’m afraid of losing my unstructured, chaotic prose. Fuck structure. It’s not that I can’t “do structure,” hell, I can do it with finesse, but I refuse to
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Oh well, in the name of journalism I just spent two hours in the rain following this guy picking up trash along the road....yeah...so thats good to relax at home, and of course with our river hill jaccuzi's (haha I have one too)
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And I think you've coined a new phrase: "fuck me gently with a chainsaw" will now be used on a regular basis by all ages.
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